<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Made In Heaven by NyghtingaleDemon</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28368921">Made In Heaven</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyghtingaleDemon/pseuds/NyghtingaleDemon'>NyghtingaleDemon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Fluff and Smut, Aziraphale Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley Was an Archangel Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Communicating (Good Omens), Enthusiastic Consent, Eventual Smut, Explicit Consent, Fluff and Smut, Hurt Crowley, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Mild Smut, Non-Graphic Smut, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Praise Kink, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Tooth-Rotting Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:15:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,136</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28368921</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyghtingaleDemon/pseuds/NyghtingaleDemon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A love letter to my favorite demon, who never lost his ability to love, and whose miracles are all the more beautiful for having to be done in roundabout ways.  Some angst, a good bit of celestial smut, and our Ineffable Dumbasses never do communicate well, do they?<br/>Also, inevitable glorification of my favorite angel, because my favorite demon loves him so (and who wouldn't?).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This labor of love has been an insanely long time in the making because I felt I owed it to the characters to get it just right.  I really hope I've done as well as they deserve.  </p><p>Huge thanks to A Passable Enochian Translator for help with the Old Speech: https://lingojam.com/APassableEnochianTranslator</p><p>Many thanks to Vigs' Nice and Accurate Guide to Footnotes - I hope I did it right.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“My dear, are you even listening to me?”</p>
<p>Crowley blinked behind his sunglasses, snapping his thoughts back to the conversation. “Course I am, Angel.” He shifted on the sofa and waved his wine glass in the Angel’s direction. “Please, go on.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale eyed him suspiciously but continued. “Well, you know how much I adore Sondheim, so when the opportunity arose, how could I refuse?”</p>
<p>The Angel’s eyes were shining with delight, the way they so often did over the smallest things. It took so very little to make Aziraphale so happy. It fascinated Crowley – he made a point to make it happen as often as possible, just so he could see that light in Aziraphale’s eyes.</p>
<p>“I’m still surprised you didn’t enjoy it more, dear, I rather thought all that blood and gore set to music would be right up your street.”</p>
<p>“Angel, if I want to see humans murdering each other, I only have to look out a window.” He sniffed. “At least the blood and death in the fairy tales was funny.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale huffed. “If only people realized how dark those stories really were….” He tipped his head back and drained his glass before straightening up with a wide smile. “You were especially fond of the Wolf’s song, if I remember. You sang it for weeks!”</p>
<p>Crowley made a non-committal noise into his glass. The Angel’s eyes were shining brighter still and Crowley couldn’t decide if he wanted to fall into them or run from them or just sit and let their light burn him to a cinder. Conveniently, Aziraphale fell back into his drunken Sondheim spiel.<a href="#note1"><sup>1</sup></a></p>
<p>They had both imbibed enough to be warm and loose and chatty, which was their new convivial stopping point. After a few over-indulgent celebrations immediately following Armageddidn’t, there seemed less need to get completely blasted. They’d sober up just a touch in a few minutes, just in time to fill another glass, and thereby maintain a comfortable buzz as long as they liked.</p>
<p>To that end, Crowley stood up to retrieve the next bottle from the kitchenette off the back room of the bookshop. He could have summoned said bottle, of course, but the Demon had come to realize that he really enjoyed the way his body moved when it was only minorly intoxicated. The natural undulations of a human shape that remembered being a snake got just that bit more fluid, and it made Crowley feel like...<em>himself</em>. He relished the sway in his every stride.</p>
<p>“Must you do that?” Aziraphale shook his head at Crowley’s retreating hips.</p>
<p>“Y’never know who might be watching, Angel,” Crowley snarked over his shoulder. Honestly, Aziraphale could be such a prude sometimes. “Y’know,” he said, sauntering back in, “you are the only person – ” he threw himself back on the sofa, bottle in hand, “ – ‘scuse me, <em>entity</em> - who doesn’t seem to appreciate the way I move.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale gave a quiet tut of disapproval as he took in the tableau that was Crowley. He had arranged his long, lithe form with what the Angel could only describe as practiced ease and studied carelessness: crossed legs thrown casually across the sofa, leaning against the arm at just the right height to put a suggestive arch in his back, fresh wine in one hand and the other proffering the new bottle to the Angel.</p>
<p>Nobody, not even the most infernal Demon in Hell, could be that sexy by accident.</p>
<p>It had to be a show. Temptation was his job, after all, and it wasn’t as if Aziraphale expected him not to be good at it. But he did wish Crowley would drop the act now and then when it was just the two of them. Surely the Demon knew that he loved him no matter what – there was no need for Crowley to <em>try so hard</em> all the time.</p>
<p>“ ’S not that I don’t appreciate it,” the Angel began, taking the bottle and refilling his glass. “Obviously, you’re terribly attractive -” he carefully didn’t look at Crowley - “it’s just – you're always so <em>flagrant</em> about it! You’re absolutely shameless!”</p>
<p>Crowley glared from under his sunglasses, fuming. Every time he got to feeling really comfortable with himself, the Angel got like this. The more confident Crowley was, the more Aziraphale seemed to find him vulgar. Usually, he indulged the Angel’s prudishness, but tonight it struck a nerve.</p>
<p>“I didn’t realize it bothered you so much, Angel,” he snarled. “I’ll make sure to keep a lid on it from now on, shall I?” He slithered up to a sitting position, mimicking Aziraphale’s usual stiff posture. “This more acceptable?”</p>
<p>“Crowley, I didn’t mean – you know I – I only meant - ” The Angel’s face grew redder as he spluttered. “I think we ought to sober up.”</p>
<p>“You do that, Angel,” sneered Crowley, draining his glass and refilling it. He was too hurt and angry to be anything less than plastered. Meanwhile, Aziraphale willed the alcohol out of his body and shook the mild hangover from his head. He joined Crowley on the sofa and placed a gentle hand on his knee. Crowley flinched away. “You ssure that’ss quite proper, Angel?” He ignored the sibilance in his voice and gulped his wine.</p>
<p>“Crowley, darling,” Aziraphale said gently, “you know I love you more than the wide world.”</p>
<p>“Sso long as you never have to look at me.” Crowley spat. He downed the last of his glass. “You love your sssenssual pleassuresss, your food and wine, but thisss,” he swept a hand down the length of his torso, “bothersss you.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale caught Crowley’s face in his hands, trying to meet his eyes behind his dark glasses. “I love you exactly as you are. You don’t have to put on with me.”</p>
<p>Crowley shook his head with a bitter chuckle. “Sssure, Angel. Whatever you sssay.” He stood abruptly, snatching up the half-empty bottle, and then stopped himself. He didn’t really want to fight. A deep breath kept him from saying something he’d regret, though it didn’t soothe him. “Think I’ll head home, Angel,” he muttered. “Night.”</p>
<p>He was halfway to the door before Aziraphale caught his wrist and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of his hand. “Goodnight, my dear.” His voice was small, and his eyes weren’t shining any longer.</p>
<p>----------</p>
<p>Crowley trusted the Bentley to get him back to his flat without any property damage, while his thoughts came in sharp-edged pieces. J<em>ust because he doesn’t appreciate it</em>... <em>We aren’t all dusty, overly buttoned-up librarians</em>... <em>Some of us enjoy sex and aren’t ashamed of it</em>... <em>Some of us can’t help being sexy</em>... <em>There are songs written about me, for fuck’s sake!</em></p>
<p>He stormed into his flat, turning up the bottle and sucking down the dregs. He tried to have a good menace at his house plants but his heart just wasn’t in it, so he stomped around his flat instead, looking for something to channel his anger at.</p>
<p>
  <em>Another bottle, scotch this time, no glass required</em>
</p>
<p>For six thousand years, Crowley had teased and taunted Aziraphale. He’d reveled in the Angel’s scandalized expressions, and, sure, he’d laid it on a bit thick sometimes just for the sake of getting a reaction. But then the world didn’t end, and they weren’t killed, and confessions and kisses happened...</p>
<p>And how the HEAVEN could Aziraphale not know that he just WAS this way? After all these millennia, when he knew Crowley better than Crowley knew himself, how could the Angel not recognize that Crowley was most at ease, most himself, when they were together? That he respected and loved Aziraphale and would never try wiles on him?</p>
<p>After all, that was the whole reason their relationship hadn’t progressed past kissing as yet. If Crowley’d had his way, he’d have had the Angel fifteen different ways as soon as Above and Below were looking the other way! But Aziraphale was a creature of habit, and his habit, for the last Somebody knows how long, had been celibacy. So he let Aziraphale lead in everything, taking solace in occasional kisses and keeping his hands to himself as much as he could manage. And while the Angel wasn’t a tease, he did occasionally push Crowley’s restraint with a hand just a bit too high on his thigh or a kiss that lingered too long to be chaste but ended too soon to be anything more. Sometimes Crowley wondered if this wasn’t some new form of Hell devised especially for him – to have his Angel and still have to hold himself back. It hurt like Holy Water, but what could he do?</p>
<p>The look on Aziraphale’s face – that disapproving, superior, holier than thou look that was as close as the Angel ever got to a sneer or look of disgust – kept flashing through his mind. It tore at Crowley’s heart and twisted his gut. That look that said he was ugly and base just for being what he was. He’d give anything for his Angel to never look at him like that again. It reminded him too much of when he’d lost Her grace.</p>
<p>
  <em>The bottle half-empty</em>
</p>
<p>He hadn’t always been like this. He’d always been beautiful, of course, but everything was beautiful back then...before. He’d been trusted....to care for, to heal.... Even now, there were moments when he longed to reach out to humans in pain but he was terrified of finding out he couldn’t do it anymore, so he didn’t try. Not being able to would be worse. That was half the reason he’d suggested the Arrangement in the first place – to remember what it felt like…</p>
<p>Crowley staggered across his study and splayed artfully, albeit unintentionally, across his great plush throne. Memories crowded in on him. The more he screwed his eyes shut against the visions and guzzled his scotch to muffle the sounds, the more he remembered.</p>
<ol>
<li>
<a id="note1" name="note1"></a>Crowley wouldn’t admit it to anyone, let alone Aziraphale, but Company was actually his favorite Sondheim. “Being Alive” had wrung tears from him when they’d attended the opening in ‘72, though he’d managed to hide it, and now he very carefully removed the cast recording from the Bentley every weekend to preserve it.</li>
</ol>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p>
<p>
  <em>LIFT UP YOUR EYES, MY CHILD</em>
</p>
<p>Her voice was like a song. </p>
<p>He was kneeling.  He had just been spoken – or was it sung? – into existence.  At Her bidding, he rose to his feet, flaming hair and gleaming wings spread out behind him. </p>
<p>She passed a Loving hand across his form, clothing him in flowing emerald green raiment.  Power of the same color radiated about him, topped with the light of his halo, which matched his hair.  He reached out his hands to Her, palms up in offering.  Her hands closed around his and a new Power flowed into him.  Love, yes, but Love With A Purpose.  Love To Make Whole.  He didn’t understand – how could anything be less than whole?</p>
<p><em>YOU WILL SEE, </em>she sang to him.  <em>YOU WILL KNOW.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>THEY WILL NEED YOU.</em>
</p>
<p>Her Love filled him and shone out from his face, reflecting back to Her.</p>
<p>
  <em>YOU SHALL GIVE.</em>
</p>
<p>And with that, he knew his Purpose, his Function.  He was To Make Whole, whenever anything was not so.  She had a Plan for him and he was content to hang the stars until he was called upon for more.</p>
<p>The vision clouded over, Darkness enveloping the Light, and a cacophony of screams and battle cries assaulted his ears.  He may have screamed as well. </p>
<p>Next thing he knew, it was dark and hot and so crowded he found himself pulling inward from all sides just to get a little space.  He drew himself in so completely that his wings and limbs merged with his torso and he fell to the ground, a scaly, slithering, Crawling thing. </p>
<p>YOU THERE! CRAWLY!</p>
<p>Just like that, he had a new name, and a great clawed hand snatched him up from the ground before he could be trampled.  There was no Love here, though he thought he could still feel it in himself.</p>
<p>YOU’LL DO, said a sharp, barking voice that did not sing.</p>
<p>GET UP THERE AND MAKE SOME TROUBLE!</p>
<p>The great clawed hand launched him upward.  He passed through a burning firmament, more darkness and closeness, and finally emerged into light, but not Light as he remembered it.  Sunlight.  In a garden.  Soft green leaves abounded everywhere and with small flicks of his tongue, he tasted each tree, flower, and shrub.  He knew it wasn’t Heaven, but it almost felt as good.</p>
<p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p>
<p>Crowley hit the floor with a heavy thud, waking to the world turned on its ear in the early light.  The empty bottle rolled away from his hand.  His heart was racing, tears streaming down his face, and he felt a desperate <em>need</em>, though he didn’t know what for.  His hands reached out of their own accord, groping for...what? </p>
<p>He thought he’d better try to sit up; when he did, he found a glass of water in his hand.  He downed it quickly and refilled it with a blink.  Crowley had never been much of a fan of water, but this was crystal sharp and icy smooth and soothed some ache in him that he wasn’t totally aware he felt.  His thoughts went to his plants – they needed water, too.</p>
<p>He stood, stone cold sober now but swaying slightly nonetheless.  His legs didn’t seem to be quite under his control, but they carried him where he meant to go.  Surrounded by his lush, terrified plants, Crowley closed his eyes.  Instead of snarling or yelling at them, he ran a hand gently through the foliage and flicked his tongue out to taste them.  Lobelia.  Alyssum.  Lilies.  And sweet, crisp chlorophyll blanketing all of it.  Something unclasped in his chest.  He leaned forward, pressing his face into the leaves.  While the rest of the plants trembled at this strange embrace, a single golden pothos vine curled tenderly around Crowley’s cheek.   </p>
<p>Watering his plants grounded him somewhat, but Crowley still felt a bit untethered and lost.  He just couldn’t settle, so he decided to go out and mingle with the mortals for a bit.  Perhaps it was a good day for a few temptations.</p>
<p>Strictly speaking, Crowley was under no obligation to tempt or do anything else Demonic anymore.  The powers of Hell were still quaking at the memory of Crowley (or what looked like him) splashing happily in a bath of Holy Water.  They wanted as little as possible to do with him now.  He’d even tried to file some paperwork, just to see what happened – it was returned, singed around the edges.<a href="#note1"><sup>1</sup></a>  So it really didn’t matter if he tempted or blessed or just sat in the park with a strawberry lolly – nobody was watching him.  Still, he enjoyed it and it kept him busy.</p>
<p>“Hello, darling,” he purred to the Bentley as he slid behind the wheel.  “Where shall we go today?”</p>
<p>The car roared to life and Freddie Mercury immediately announced a bicycle race.</p>
<p>Crowley thought briefly of Anathema, but it was rather a drive out to Tadfield and he had very conflicted feelings about the M-25 since it had nearly taken his beloved Bentley away from him.  Better to stay in town.  “How about the park, then, love?” he asked the car.  She purred in assent, and so off they went.</p>
<p>It was a beautiful day.  Spring-like, with a stiff breeze that carried that sense of rebirth that Crowley associated with seedlings.  It wasn’t becoming of a Demon to revel in the beauty of creation, but that dream – memory? - of the Garden was still stuck with him.  He’d always liked green, growing things.     </p>
<p>He treated himself to a nice saunter through the park, strawberry lolly in hand.  It was crowded with people who’d come out to enjoy the lovely weather.  As he strolled, Crowley felt eyes upon him – human eyes, but plenty of them. He tasted the air discreetly.  Quiet joy.  Simple contentment.  Wistfulness.  Recklessness, desperately trying to cover sadness and failing.          </p>
<p>That one was interesting.</p>
<p>Glancing around for the source, Crowley’s gaze landed on a dark-haired woman staring at him.  She didn’t turn away when he caught her looking, but instead raked her eyes over his frame with great appreciation.  <em>Not much to tempt there</em>, Crowley thought, <em>her mind’s clearly already made up</em>.  It was too easy to be any fun, but he blew her a kiss, anyway.  As he strode away, he felt a small <em>ping </em>of golden-green power from her direction.  Crowley knew that feeling – it was what happened when he performed miracles for Aziraphale.  He tasted again.  No more recklessness, only a residual blot of sadness being quickly overwhelmed with excitement and confidence. </p>
<p><em>Odd</em>, Crowley shrugged to himself as he continued on his way.  <em>I wasn’t even trying</em>. </p>
<p>Twice more before he left the park, Crowley thought he’d found a good target for a temptation but ended up creating a minor miracle instead.  It was a blessed good thing nobody was watching now – what in the Nine Circles was wrong with him today?</p>
<p>Still, it all felt right to Crowley.  He hadn’t set anyone on the path to righteousness, that was certain.  If anything, he’d encouraged them to sin more boldly.  The couple on the bench who were barely on speaking terms until they each caught the other eyeing Crowley up and down – they were headed for a full night, if not an entire weekend, of debauched fornication, regardless of that drop of golden grace that hit them at the same time.  That pretty young thing he’d flirted with for ten minutes left with the intent of hitting every fetish bar and dungeon in a hundred-mile radius; the wash of self-acceptance and empowerment that accompanied that decision was purely coincidental.</p>
<p>Crowley returned to the Bentley and sat a while in thought, idly petting the steering wheel.  Maybe his radar was off today?  No, that couldn’t be it, they were bona fide temptations.  It’s just that they weren’t <em>only</em> temptations.  And now that he thought about it, this wasn’t the first time. </p>
<p>Shaking his head, Crowley coaxed the Bentley to life again.  His mind wandered as the car wended its way vaguely in the direction of his flat.  Over the centuries, there had been a number of times when he’d felt that smudge of goodness at the back of his Demonic work.  He even remembered a couple of occasions on which he’d managed a miracle for Aziraphale and his own temptation all in the same night, by the same deed.  There was that time around 1623, or was it 1655?  And then that one in the late 1990s.  Oh, and once in 1069, too.  At the time, Crowley had considered those validations of his prodigious skills – after all, how many entities on either side could do both at once?  Now, though, while half of his mind was preoccupied in absently singing along to <em>Fat Bottomed Girls</em>, he began to wonder.</p>
<p>Crowley had a few specialties as a Demon.  He was quite good at pissing people off, it had to be said.  His temptations to anger subtly pulled people away from their better natures and made them spread it on to others.<a href="#note2"><sup>2</sup></a>  That kind of temptation had always been pure and infernal and it only took the slightest nudge to get humans to take their frustrations out on each other.  Work smarter, not harder, Crowley reasoned.  He could tempt people to steal, to hurt each other, or to spend days at a time on a couch in front of a TV (that was the easiest).<a href="#note3"><sup>3</sup></a> </p>
<p>Somehow, though, it was different when he tempted humans into sexual pleasures.  In hindsight, Crowley’s sexual temptations had often been tainted with Love – even more so when he participated in the act himself.  He’d occasionally had to fudge the paperwork to make it seem as if the blessing was actually part of the deception, which got rave reviews from Hell.</p>
<p>Miracles, even accidental ones, were tricky when you were a Demon.  Miracles depend on Love, they’re formed from it.  The thing is, Demons never talk about Love.  Not only is it a four-letter word, they were all stripped of it when they Fell.  So far as Crowley knew, no other Demon was capable of feeling it, let alone giving it.  He was fairly certain something had Gone Wrong in his Fall, because he’d always had an ember or two glowing quietly within him, no matter how hard he’d tried to extinguish it for some centuries.<a href="#note4"><sup>4</sup></a>  At times he envied the other Demons; it was orders of magnitude more painful to remember Love while cast out.</p>
<p>But it was that Love that had drawn him to Aziraphale, his beautiful, daft Angel, and he wouldn’t be without him for anything in the Universe.  Even if he was as thick-headed as it was possible to be sometimes.  If he would just stop looking at Crowley as if he were vile and tawdry by his very nature! </p>
<p>Crowley arrived back at his flat feeling better and worse at the same time.  The brave golden pothos reached out a tendril to him as he walked by.  “Don’t think I’ve gone soft on you,” he snapped at it.  But he brushed its leaves tenderly, all the same.</p>
<p>There was a message from Aziraphale waiting for him. </p>
<p>
  <em>“I just wanted to say I’m sorry about last night, darling.  Whatever I said wrong, I didn’t mean to upset you.  Please do come by tonight, my dear.”</em>
</p>
<p>Crowley shook his head, chuckling.  Silly Angel.  As though they hadn’t spent every evening together since they’d frightened Heaven and Hell out of their wits.  As though Crowley would let anything, any pain, keep him from Aziraphale’s side now, after six millennia of being torturously at arm’s length.  Besides, Crowley needed to talk – he needed Aziraphale to understand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<ol>
<li>
<a id="note1" name="note1"></a>This was proof that nobody had wanted to touch it, since under normal circumstances, infernal paperwork blackens as soon as it reaches any desk in Hell.</li>
<li>
<a id="note2" name="note2"></a> A strange red-faced preacher in south Louisiana had caught on to that trick and warned his flock against “fits of carnality”, but he was so entertaining that Crowley just let him go on with it. </li>
<li>
<a id="note3" name="note3"></a> There was no truth to the reports that Crowley had invented the concept of binge-watching, but he had taken credit for it, naturally.</li>
<li>
<a id="note4" name="note4"></a> He’d never quite forgiven Her for the Flood, poor Yeshua, the Crusades, the Inquisition, etc.  He may have taken credit for the worst of humanity’s ingenuity, but how could She let it happen in the first place?</li>
</ol>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Shortly after sundown, the Bentley pulled up in front of the bookshop.  Crowley had barely passed the locked doors when Aziraphale came rushing from the back room and pulled up short three feet in front of him.  An awkward beat passed between them. </p>
<p>“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said finally.</p>
<p>“We need to talk, Angel.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale swallowed hard.  The last time Crowley had said that to him, the Antichrist had just been born, but this sounded worse.  And in human relationships, he knew, that phrase signaled an imminent breakup.  “Would you like a drink first?”  He made a terrible job of trying to sound nonchalant. </p>
<p>Crowley nodded and accepted the miracled glass Aziraphale offered. </p>
<p>They sat on the sofa and finished two glasses apiece in silence before Crowley spoke again.</p>
<p>“I realized something today, Angel,” he began. </p>
<p>Aziraphale paled and drained his third glass in the hopes of re-coloring his cheeks. </p>
<p>Crowley stood and began pacing restlessly.  “I know what you think of me, and I know why, and I guess I can’t really blame you.  I mean, being a Demon and all, I s’pose it goes with the territory, like being unforgiveable.”  He paused to drink, holding up a finger to keep Aziraphale quiet.  “I know I’m not like you, and you find me…I guess ‘distasteful’ would be the nicest way to put it.”  He turned on the spot, as if the right words were somewhere just over his shoulder.  “Look, there’s a lot of things wrong with me, Angel, I know that better than you do, but….”  He trailed off, unable to wrangle his thoughts into anything coherent.</p>
<p>“Crowley,” Aziraphale ventured, “what are you trying to say?”</p>
<p>The Demon whirled to face him.  “I’m saying that I’m not as bad as you think I am!”  The words came out harsher than he intended. </p>
<p>Aziraphale blinked, nonplussed.  “My dear, what have I done to make you feel that way?  I know what you are, I always have, and I love you regardless.”</p>
<p>Crowley’s stomach burned and twisted.  Aziraphale really didn’t know – how could a fucking ANGEL be completely oblivious about the pain he’d caused?  Crowley ran a hand through his hair, yanking at his scalp in frustration.  “The way you look at me sometimes…”  He seethed with the pain of it all and his voice rose wildly.  “Like I’m something filthy and base.  Like all you see is the snake!  But do you really know what I am?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale looked as if he’d been slapped, tears welling in his eyes.  He had no defense to give.  He wanted to say of course he knew exactly what Crowley was – but he was less sure now, with Crowley railing like this.   </p>
<p>“How did you think I was able to perform those miracles for you all these centuries?” Crowley demanded. </p>
<p>“Well, I – I suppose – I mean, you were an Angel once – ” Aziraphale stammered.</p>
<p>“So were all Demons, but do you think Hastur could have done it?  Or Beelzebub?”</p>
<p>The Angel opened his mouth and closed it again.  He’d never actually given it much thought; the Arrangement had been Crowley’s idea, after all.  “You’re special,” he said weakly.</p>
<p>“You’re damn right about that, Angel,” Crowley snarled.  “There’s a reason Gabriel and Michael hate me so much.  Uriel used to be nicer, though.”  His voice softened.  “You don’t remember me…from before…do you?” </p>
<p>Aziraphale shook his head through dawning comprehension.  There had been rumors at the time, but Gabriel had immediately banned the names of all the Fallen.  It was whispered that the ranks of the Archangels had changed…that one of them had been cast out as well.    </p>
<p>“I was given the greatest purpose,” Crowley sighed.  “<em>De eol saga</em>.”  Aziraphale’s eyes widened at his use of the Old Speech.  “I was created to heal, Angel.”  Those embers of Love blazed momentarily in Crowley’s chest as he paused, afraid to speak his thoughts aloud.  “And somehow that wasn’t entirely taken from me when I Fell.” </p>
<p>The weight of the realization sat thick between them; the thought that perhaps there had been a little Mercy after all.  Aziraphale bowed his head.  It was a minute or two before Crowley trusted his voice again. </p>
<p>“My tools were just limited,” he finished quietly.  “This,” he looked down at the body he’d lived in for all of time, “is all I have left of what I was meant to be.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale didn’t look up. </p>
<p>“Your temptations always had to be done in roundabout ways, my miracles are the same.”  The Demon pressed on.  “This is what I’ve got to work with.”  He fought to keep the plea out of his voice. “I can’t be other than I am.”</p>
<p>Still Aziraphale was quiet, his eyes on the floor. </p>
<p>Crowley couldn’t stand it.  He spun on his heel and went to stand by the fire, taking refuge in the warmth.  This was it.  This was the moment when Aziraphale would tell him <em>well, that changes things, my dear, nothing personal, you understand</em>....  Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes behind his glasses.  He should have known he wasn’t good enough for the Angel.  Too brazen, too outrageous, too grossly sensual for his ethereal sensibilities. </p>
<p>But he wasn’t about to let Aziraphale see that.  Determined to save face, he turned and leaned casually against the mantelpiece, one hand pulling at the back of his hair just enough to keep his mind off any other pain. </p>
<p>If he could have looked at Aziraphale, instead of merely pointing his sunglasses at him while his eyes stayed on the rug, Crowley would have noticed something.</p>
<p>Aziraphale had raised his eyes the moment Crowley had turned away.  He’d watched the way Crowley’s body turned in sections – head, then torso, then hips and legs following – watched the spread of his hands on the mantelpiece as he stared into the fire, the wave that ran up his frame as he’d straightened up.  Now he was gazing at Crowley in wonder as if seeing him with new eyes.</p>
<p>Shining eyes.</p>
<p>He took in Crowley from the ground up, starting at his crossed ankles, traveling up his long legs in those ridiculously tight trousers, following the slant of his torso up to the curve of his neck and that hand buried in his red locks.  Another beautiful picture that Aziraphale would have attributed to Demonic temptation.  And yet…  Crowley had always been like this, since the beginning of time.  He changed a bit with fashions, but he was always devilishly good-looking – but even that phrase wasn’t fair.  There was nothing diabolical about it.  It was simply Crowley, himself.  And nothing could be that genuinely beautiful except by the hand of the Almighty.</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry, my dear,” Aziraphale said softly.</p>
<p>Crowley’s hand tightened against his scalp.  Here it was.  He braced himself for the blow.</p>
<p>“It would appear I’ve been quite stupid,” the Angel continued.</p>
<p><em>Thinking I could love a Demon</em>, Crowley’s brain finished for him.  For Somebody’s sake, why didn’t he just get it over with?</p>
<p>“In all of Heaven and Earth, I didn’t believe something so alluring could be real.”</p>
<p><em>What was that?</em>  Crowley’s eyes jumped up to find Aziraphale’s rapt gaze fixed on him.  He wanted to say something, preferably something suave and cool, but his mind had gone blank.  Aziraphale’s eyes were shining – <em>at him!</em></p>
<p>Aziraphale went on, unaware of Crowley’s heart hammering in his chest.  “I thought it had to be an act, the same way you tempt humans - ”</p>
<p>“Angel!” Outraged, Crowley found his voice again.  “You don’t think I’d – ”</p>
<p> “No, no, of course not, my dear!  I know better.”  Aziraphale’s eyes lingered on the firelight reflected in Crowley’s hair.  He vaguely remembered seeing a halo like that once.  And that hand was still there.  “Forgive me for not seeing you clearly.”</p>
<p>Crowley watched the Angel’s eyes drop to his chest and continue downward.  “You seem to like what you see now.”  There, he’d managed that suave, cool line after all! </p>
<p>Aziraphale smirked in spite of the tinge of pink that blossomed across his cheeks.  Slowly, he dragged his eyes back up to meet Crowley’s.  “Very much.”  The sudden heat in his voice sucked the breath out of Crowley’s chest.  But just as quickly, Aziraphale remembered himself and reeled it in a bit.  “It was never that I didn’t like looking at you.  Quite the contrary – you’re such a sight to behold I scarcely trusted myself.  How could anyone not appreciate...” he trailed off, letting his wandering gaze finish his thought.</p>
<p>Crowley blinked furiously behind his glasses.  He had thought exactly that – that Aziraphale didn’t appreciate...that he didn’t like what he saw.  “You always seemed to disapprove,” he choked out.</p>
<p>“I only wanted you to know you didn’t have to try with me.”  The Angel had the grace to look embarrassed.  “Shall I try that again?”  He patted the seat next to him, inviting. </p>
<p>Crowley hesitated a beat, then pushed himself away from the mantel.  By the time he joined Aziraphale on the sofa, he’d even remembered to take his hand out of his hair. </p>
<p>The Angel reached for his sunglasses, then thought better of it – Crowley had respected his boundaries all this time, he couldn’t force this on him.  But Crowley had taken his risk and not been cast aside for his trouble.  He wanted Aziraphale to understand, after all, so he slipped off his glasses and left them on the coffee table. </p>
<p>Aziraphale’s eyes shone like Crowley had never seen them, bright and sparkling as newborn stars.  It almost hurt him to look at them and he felt he could never look away.  “Thank you, love,” Aziraphale smiled, cupping Crowley’s cheek gently.  “Your eyes are so beautiful.”</p>
<p>Crowley felt a flush creeping up his face and focused on breathing to keep from trembling under his Angel’s touch.  Aziraphale had never been this intense – he was a being of Love, of course, but something long and tightly held had given way in him and tides of other Loves that Angels weren’t supposed to feel flooded from him.  A Love that wrapped around Crowley to protect, a Love that sparkled with joy at his presence, a Love that laughed against his cheek like Aziraphale’s kisses, a Love woven of gratitude and appreciation, a Love made thick with longing and desire that yearned to burn itself into Crowley’s very essence.  They mingled and swirled around him, pulling him toward Aziraphale’s arms and lips.  It was all he could do to hold himself still.</p>
<p> “Everything about you is beautiful,” Aziraphale continued, apparently oblivious to what he was doing to Crowley.  “And quite alarmingly enticing.”  His hand slipped down Crowley’s neck, where his thumb traced over the Demon’s racing pulse.  Blue eyes widened in surprise and the Angel gave a quiet gasp.  “Oh, love,” he murmured.  “All the times you’ve made my heart race, I had no idea I could do the same to you.”</p>
<p> “Angel, if I’ve ever made your heart race, you’ve hidden that fact very well!”  The tremor in his voice undermined Crowley’s attempt at deflection by snark.  </p>
<p>The Angel arched an eyebrow.  “Don’t you know?”  Emboldened, Aziraphale raised his chin, offering his throat to the Demon.  Crowley hesitated a moment before gingerly drawing a thumb across the pulse pounding beneath the skin.</p>
<p>He swallowed the urge to lunge forward and take Aziraphale’s mouth.</p>
<p>“And how did I manage that, Angel?” he growled softly. </p>
<p>Aziraphale’s eyes held his.  “Your hair in the firelight,” he said.  “The way you move, the sound of your voice, those gorgeous eyes.”  His hand slid upward.  “Your hand in your hair.  Right about…here.”  He closed his fist tight against the Demon’s scalp.  Crowley hissed sharply and braced his hands on the sofa. </p>
<p>“Angel,” he whispered, quaking, “don’t… Please…”  He shut his eyes against the onslaught of Love and feelings he couldn’t stand up to.  “Please… I can’t…” </p>
<p>The Angel didn’t loosen his grip.  “Can’t what, dear heart?”  A magnificent heat radiated from Crowley as he struggled to hold himself together.  That was new…and intoxicating.  It prickled across Aziraphale’s skin and wafted through his head, setting his senses reeling.  It was unbearable and he wanted more.  He twisted his hand by minute degrees, marveling at the broken, ragged breaths coming from his Demon.</p>
<p>“I can’t take…” Crowley forced his body to still and his breath to quiet long enough to make this clear, though he kept his eyes closed.  “ ‘S too much, Angel.  I can’t hold back if you do this.”  His voice broke into a desperate sob.  “<em>Please don’t</em>….”</p>
<p>Still transfixed by the effect he had on Crowley, Aziraphale moved closer.  It had been a long time since he had engaged in sex, but it had never felt like this - so heady, so magnetic, so compelling.  His other hand found its way to the Demon’s face and, almost without meaning to, he pressed his lips against Crowley’s. </p>
<p>The Demon tried to pull back.  “Angel,” he warned, but he was silenced by Aziraphale’s thumb upon his lips.  Without thinking, his tongue flicked across that thumb, and the Angel shivered.</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s head swam with the heat and a long-suppressed yearning.  “Crowley,” he whispered through the haze of want clouding his thoughts.  He released his grip on Crowley’s hair in favor of scratching lightly at his scalp.  “I spent so long resisting you.”  His lips brushed against the Demon’s cheek.  “I owe you so much.  Each time you rescued me, each time you stood by me.  Each time I pushed you away and still you came back.  How can I ever repay that?”  Crowley bit back a moan, shuddering at Aziraphale’s breath on his neck.  “I don’t want to push you away anymore.”</p>
<p>Crowley’s golden eyes snapped open and fixed Aziraphale with a predator’s stare.  “Then don’t,” he growled, baring his teeth.   </p>
<p>For a breath, neither spoke or moved.  Then the serpent struck and Aziraphale found himself flattened into the cushions with his hands pinned above his head and Crowley’s tongue probing his mouth.  He knew he could easily break the Demon’s one-handed grip, but he saw no reason to – he never felt safer than when Crowley manhandled him.</p>
<p>A brush of the Demon’s hand against his throat relieved the Angel of his tartan bowtie.  A firm caress from neck to waist unfastened his waistcoat.  And then a lone finger trailed down the length of Aziraphale’s torso, each shirt button giving way in its wake.  Crowley moved his lips to the Angel’s neck and slid his fingers under the edge of his open shirt, grazing nails across his ribs.  </p>
<p>Aziraphale whimpered – Crowley froze.  His heart sank.  He should have known better, he should have held back no matter what the Angel had said or done.  Crowley sat up, letting go of Aziraphale’s wrists.</p>
<p>“You know you can stop me, Angel,” he said, his eyes closed in shame.  “If this isn’t what you want – ” </p>
<p>Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s lapels and yanked him down into a fierce kiss.  When they broke apart, they were on a large four-poster bed, in a bedroom that may or may not have existed above the bookshop before that moment.  The Angel gazed up at Crowley, blue eyes smouldering.</p>
<p>“I want a miracle.  From you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The Old Speech can be translated here: https://lingojam.com/APassableEnochianTranslator</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For a moment, Crowley was seized with what could only be called performance anxiety.  He’d never had a miracle <em>demanded</em> of him before.  But this was Aziraphale, in whose name and for whose praise all of Crowley’s miracles were enacted, whether part of the Arrangement or not. </p>
<p>“Please, Crowley.”  Aziraphale wound his fingers in Crowley’s hair again.</p>
<p>“Oh, Angel,” Crowley purred.  “Thought you’d never ask.”</p>
<p>He kissed the Angel, slowly this time – it wouldn’t do to rush this.  Gently, he pushed all those blasted <em>layers</em> off him.  Aziraphale didn’t balk, but as Crowley caressed his flesh in awed reverence, something akin to shame clouded his face.  “No, Angel,” Crowley whispered.  “My beautiful Angel.”   He sat up and took both Aziraphale’s hands in his own, pressing the Angel’s palms to his chest and guiding them to remove his jacket.  His t-shirt went next, every movement slow and deliberate and designed to show Aziraphale just how much Crowley wanted his touch, wanted him.  Feeling Crowley tremble under his hands thrilled the Angel so thoroughly he forgot his insecurities. </p>
<p>Crowley pressed his chest against Aziraphale’s, the touch of bare skin drawing soft moans from them both.  “Sweet, beautiful, perfect Angel,” he punctuated his endearments with kisses along Aziraphale’s throat.  “Do you know how much I love you?  How much I want you?”</p>
<p>“Show me,” Aziraphale answered, arching into Crowley’s hands as they roamed his torso.  He closed the slight distance between their lips and drank in the dizzying torrent of Love and desire that poured forth from Crowley.  It was all too much and not nearly enough.   </p>
<p>Crowley slid downward, trailing kisses across skin like marble, listening to the Angel pant and keen for him.  He took his time teasing nipples, gently nipping at supple flesh, and generally taking his pleasure in the sublime form that was finally surrendered to him after millennia of wanting.  By the time Crowley reached his waist, Aziraphale was a gasping, writhing wreck with one hand twisted in the sheets beneath him and the other buried in the Demon’s hair. </p>
<p>Crowley planted a line of kisses along the waistband of Aziraphale’s trousers while his hands caressed the Angel’s thighs.  Aziraphale rocked his hips up desperately, but the Demon only smirked. </p>
<p>“Patience is a virtue, Angel,” he admonished him.  One hot breath unfastened the Angel’s trousers and set him whimpering.  “After all this time, you can wait just a little longer, can’t you?”  He raised his face to find Aziraphale’s blue eyes pleading, his face flushed, his mouth hanging open.  Crowley’s eyes flooded with gold and, in one fluid motion that a human body could never have managed, he slithered back up to answer that plea with a deep kiss and a roll of his hips that made it clear they were both fighting for that patience.        </p>
<p>He felt the familiar glowing green warmth rising beneath his skin and he couldn’t have held it back even if he’d wanted to.  A golden wash of Love trailed behind his hand as he caressed Aziraphale’s neck and shoulder – the Angel’s brilliant eyes went wide with recognition and he pulled a matching stripe of Love down Crowley’s chest. </p>
<p>“I didn’t know you could – ” gasped Aziraphale.</p>
<p>“I can do anything for you, Angel.”  Crowley cut him off, capturing his mouth with a shower of passion.  He’d never been touched like that, with a Love so pure and real it could only…</p>
<p>and from his Angel…</p>
<p>it was more than he’d ever dared to dream. </p>
<p>Crowley eased Aziraphale’s trousers and pants down over his plump hips and then slowly down his legs.  A wave of his hand made quick work of shoes and socks, and soon he knelt between Aziraphale’s feet, reverently removing the last of both their clothes.     </p>
<p>Aziraphale gaped at the sight of Crowley’s naked body.  He hadn’t seen anything so perfectly formed since the old days in Heaven, when Angels wore little more than Light.  “Oh, Lord,” he breathed, “you are <em>exquisite</em>, my dear.”  The endearment sounded trite now. </p>
<p> “Not so beautiful as you, Angel.”  Crowley kissed his way back up Aziraphale’s legs, first one, then the other, lapping up Aziraphale’s every gasp and sigh.  His tongue flicked across the crease of one hip, tasting sweat and Love and delicious <em>need</em>, but he held back.  “What would you have of me, Angel?”  His cheek pillowed on a velvet thigh, Crowley breathed in Aziraphale’s scent.  He knew it so well, yet it never failed to make him a little giddy.  “Anything, you need only ask.” </p>
<p> “Make love to me.”</p>
<p>Crowley’s heart vibrated in his chest; he tingled from head to toe.</p>
<p>“Oh, absolutely, Angel,” Crowley purred, his lips spreading into a wicked grin.  “But first….” </p>
<p>Aziraphale couldn’t hold back the cry that met Crowley’s lips wrapping around him.  The Demon’s mouth was impossibly hot and unlike anything the Angel had ever felt.  Crowley groaned blissfully, sending a lewd rush through the Angel – a little objectification agreed with him.  One hand found its way back into red hair while the other met Crowley’s hand somewhere around his hip and their fingers twined together.</p>
<p>Crowley tried to take his time, but the Angel moaning his name and tugging on his hair was too much for him.  Before long, he was taking Aziraphale all the way down his throat, jaw unhinged, reveling in being filled by his Angel.  He was quite annoyed when Aziraphale pulled his head away and sat up, drawing him into a deep kiss.</p>
<p>“I asked you to make love to me, not indulge yourself,” the Angel chided. </p>
<p>Those wide golden eyes sparkled with mischief.  “I don’t see any difference.”  Crowley wound his arms tightly around Aziraphale and nuzzled into his neck, planting kisses just below his ear.  “Lie back, Angel,” he whispered.</p>
<p>Aziraphale brought Crowley down with him, the Demon covering and surrounding him with waves of sweetly burning emerald heat.  Arms, lips, hands – all were blurred in a touch like fire, spreading molten liquid and sparks through the Angel as it traced the contours of his body.  Lost and melting in that all-consuming fever, he couldn’t discern where Crowley was touching him, until he became aware of that same honeyed heat gently stretching him and a wordless moan escaped him.</p>
<p>“That’s right, Angel,” came Crowley’s voice soft against his ear.  “Just enjoy it.  Just let me please you.”  He scattered more kisses across Aziraphale’s chest and throat, each a white-hot spark amid the flames.  The Angel thrilled to feel how intensely Crowley wanted him; every ounce of the Demon’s attention focused solely on his pleasure…</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s moans suddenly turned primal, low and growling.</p>
<p>“Right there?” Crowley cooed, stroking the small bundle of nerves beneath his deft fingers.  The Angel’s eyes flew open.  For a moment, Crowley thought he saw something like fear there, but it was quickly replaced with trust and surrender.  “I’m going to make you feel so much,” he whispered.  </p>
<p>Aziraphale’s body screamed with need.  He seized the Demon by the back of the neck and pulled him close to breathe a single word against his ear:</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>Crowley blazed.  In that short syllable were bound up all his longings, all his dreams and desires of sixty centuries.  It was the one word he had ever wanted to hear from his Angel and even up to that moment he’d never quite believed he would.  And now, Aziraphale’s touch, the Love and desire streaming from him –</p>
<p>His lips were on Aziraphale’s in an instant, greedily drinking in every groan and cry as he sank himself to the hilt in his Angel –   </p>
<p>This was what he was made for.  To Love Aziraphale with all his Being.</p>
<p>The Angel pinned Crowley to him in an iron grip.   “Crowley, my own, my only…”</p>
<p>“Angel, Angel, I love you,” Crowley answered in a flood of delirious passion.  His lips reached for anything they could find and every kiss was a branding iron against the Angel’s flesh.  He began to move, settling into a steady but unhurried rhythm, murmuring softly: “My beautiful Angel, my sweet love, my joy, my treasure, my prize...”</p>
<p>The praise struck something even deeper in Aziraphale.  No one had prayed to him in so long, he had forgotten what it was to be worshipped.  And to be worshipped by Crowley – it sent golden ripples of power along his spine, quickening his breath and reasserting a strength he’d all but forgotten.  His mouth widened in an almost savage grin.  “Yes, love,” he growled, his eyes shining with a diamond brilliance the Demon had never seen before.  “More!”</p>
<p> “Bravest and strongest of all Angels,” Crowley exalted. “All of Heaven lies in your eyes.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale raised his mouth to Crowley’s, pouring a golden core into Crowley’s green flames and setting those embers in his heart ablaze.</p>
<p>Just as Crowley thought his chest would burst with all he felt, there was a sudden <em>whoosh</em> and the room darkened around them.  Aziraphale fell back against the sheets, his face rapturous as he beheld Crowley in all his power and glory.  The Demon sat up on his knees, his velvet black wings filling the space around them and blocking out all light but that which fell from his burning red halo – a twisted shape shot through with black fault lines, it threw erratic, flickering shadows across the bed and walls. </p>
<p>“<em>Aziraphale</em>,<em> yls c ne dooain</em>,” Crowley’s voice shook the walls of reality.  “<em>Ne vors tol qaa</em>.” </p>
<p>“<em>Ol zuraah boaluahe yls.</em>”  Aziraphale’s Heavenly golden glow rose to meet Crowley’s emerald aura, the power flaring and sparking between them.  Pierced through with fire, like St. Teresa in her ecstasy, all pain and sweetness and agony and delight, desperate for it to continue.  “Z<em>ir lap yls paid, ne ham.</em>”  The Angel’s words echoed through several dimensions.</p>
<p>“<em>Limlal gohed,</em>” Crowley cried, rattling the planets in their orbits, “<em>ol dluga yls tol zir!</em>” </p>
<p>Universes were born in the blinding supernova that exploded around them; the darkest corners of human souls were lit with Love; the Earth splintered away into myriad fractalized dimensions until this plane was filled by their true forms, all wings and eyes and flame – and for one brief eternity a silken scream of excruciating ecstasy washed them both in sweet, thick tears like new-fallen roses.</p>
<p>Then all was silent, but for their labored breaths, and the world was a blank haze of golden-green light.  Dimensions winked away one by one as they returned from the brink of oblivion holding tight to one another.      </p>
<p>Crowley fell onto his back and gathered the Angel against his chest, dropping kisses across his face in the residual brightness. </p>
<p>Aziraphale clutched madly at Crowley, trembling wildly.  The Demon held him close and shushed him gently.  “<em>Tol balit, zir kures, ol boaluahe</em>,” he whispered, with only the faintest echo in his voice.</p>
<p>“<em>Ils turbs ne,</em>” Aziraphale muttered, half insensible, burying his face in Crowley’s neck.  “<em>Gnay ge lrasd ol!</em>”</p>
<p>Crowley answered him with a firm squeeze.  “<em>Ag, Aziraphale, </em>never,” he slipped out of the Old Speech as the glow receded.  “I couldn’t survive without you.”</p>
<p>The Angel settled into a lower vibration, no longer shaking in Crowley’s arms.  He raised his head, his eyes still slightly wild.  “Have I ever loved you half as much as you love me?”</p>
<p>“Of course you have, Angel.” Crowley tucked the Angel’s head back into the hollow of his shoulder.  “Just as much and just as long.”  His fingers threaded through soft blond curls; Aziraphale gave a contented sigh.  For a minute or two, Crowley basked in the remaining aura of Love and listened to Aziraphale’s heartbeat against his own.  But before long, he had to ask.  “How do you feel, love?”</p>
<p>Bright blue eyes gleamed up at him.  “<em>Ulcinin</em>,” Aziraphale answered.  “I had no idea….  Human language doesn’t quite have words for it.” </p>
<p>Crowley smiled before a pang of insecurity hit him.  “Worth it?” he asked softly.</p>
<p>The Angel kissed him soundly in reply.  “Worth everything.”  He settled himself against the Demon’s chest and wrapped his arms around his slender frame.  It was a few minutes before he spoke again.  “Er…Crowley, darling,” he hesitated, “Is that what you’ve been doing with humans all this time?  All those miracles?”</p>
<p>Crowley chuckled and cuddled Aziraphale closer.  “Nah – it doesn’t take anything like that with humans.  Really, it takes very little for them.  They’re fairly small creatures, after all, their wounds don’t run that deep, relatively speaking.” </p>
<p>He thought of those people in the park, all healed to some degree by sin – divine temptation.  Maybe She was more Ineffable than he gave Her credit for.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their relationship didn’t change overnight.  But that tension that had weighed on them since they had escaped Almost-geddon dissolved.  Crowley no longer felt the need to watch his every move and Aziraphale never gave him disapproving looks.<a href="#note1"><sup>1</sup></a>  In fact, the Angel took to ambushing Crowley with kisses – quick pecks that were over before he knew what was happening, and intense, lingering embraces that left the Demon’s eyes awash in gold.  Crowley never missed an opportunity to touch his Angel; he delighted in brushing a hand across Aziraphale’s back as he walked by or stroking his blond curls when bringing him a cup of tea, just because he could.  The Angel cycled through at least a dozen endearments to replace “my dear” before he finally settled simply on “Pet”, which amused Crowley to no end.      </p>
<p>Aziraphale not only came around to the idea of a sex life, but he seemed intent on making up for lost time.  Crowley increasingly spent his nights above the bookshop – the pillows at his flat didn’t smell like his Angel<a href="#note2"><sup>2</sup></a> and it became difficult for him to sleep there.  Aziraphale didn’t often sleep, but he found spending a few quiet hours holding Crowley in his arms the most restful meditation he’d ever known.<a href="#note3"><sup>3</sup></a> </p>
<p>A couple of months after their first night together, Crowley arrived at the bookshop to find Aziraphale positively humming with excitement.  He couldn’t really be upset, but it was always a little annoying when the Angel got so smug.  With difficulty, he held his tongue, but Aziraphale became increasingly insufferably pleased with himself over dinner, and Crowley’s restraint finally cracked.  When Aziraphale cleared the last of the dishes from the table, the Demon cornered him against the counter.    </p>
<p>“What are you up to, Angel?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale deflated as if he’d been keeping up some great subterfuge and Crowley had seen through it.  “It was going to be a surprise,” he pouted.</p>
<p>“And it still is,” Crowley said patiently, “because I don’t know what you’ve got cooking in that sweet blond head of yours.  Only that you’re hiding something very badly.”  He tried consoling the Angel with a kiss on the nose.</p>
<p>“Fine,” Aziraphale huffed, but he smiled.  “Come with me, Pet.”  He turned and headed for the back room, leading Crowley by the hand. </p>
<p>On the sofa lay a large, flat, white box wrapped with a white satin ribbon.  The sight of it made the hair on the back of Crowley’s neck stand up, though he wasn’t sure why.  Aziraphale handed it to him, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.</p>
<p>“I do hope you like it.  I know it’s not really your style anymore, but when I saw it, it just called out for you, and it was so lovely I just had to….”  He stopped babbling and beamed at the Demon.  “Well, go on.”</p>
<p>Crowley opened the box and peeled back a layer of white tissue paper to reveal a shirt of fine emerald green silk.  His throat constricted and his eyes welled up behind his dark lenses. The box fell back onto the sofa as the fabric slipped through Crowley’s fingers, soft as Light.  He hadn’t worn that color since his Fall.  Not since he’d lost his original name.  That could only mean… </p>
<p>“You don’t have to wear it,” Aziraphale backpedaled, seeing his expression change.  “I just thought…  I just wanted you to know that – ”</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s back hit the wall before he could finish, his mouth stopped by Crowley’s furious kiss.  The Demon’s grip tightened inexorably, almost viciously, crushing the Angel against him as he poured all his six thousand years of anguish, Love, pain, and gratitude into the single act.  Once he felt his feelings had been made clear, he relented and settled for resting his forehead against Aziraphale’s.</p>
<p>“You know?” he whispered.</p>
<p>“I know,” answered the Angel.</p>
<p>“And you don’t think – I mean – you don’t – ”</p>
<p>“I think you’re perfect,” Aziraphale said simply.  “Everything you are, Crowley, the light and the dark.  I love all of you.”  Crowley buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck.  The Angel stroked his hair tenderly; when Crowley showed no sign of movement after a few minutes, he spoke just as gently.  “What is it, love?”</p>
<p>The Demon raised his head to see Aziraphale’s eyes aglow and he thought he might cry.  “Have I ever told you how much I love the way your eyes shine?”</p>
<p>The Angel beamed.  “You’ve mentioned it once or twice.  But what is it, dear heart?” </p>
<p>Crowley’s head reeled with unfinished conflicting thoughts, things he wanted to say but didn’t fully understand.  He shook his head helplessly.</p>
<p>“You can tell me, Crowley.”</p>
<p>Crowley took Aziraphale’s face in his hands, trusted, and let his swirling thoughts tumble out without worrying if they made sense.</p>
<p>“I want to be the only thing to make your eyes shine like that.  Only I don’t, because I want to see your eyes shine always, whether it has anything to do with me or not.  I want to be the reason you smile, but I want to watch you smile over a book or crepes or some piece of music.  I want to be the only one to kiss these lips, to touch you, hold you – ”</p>
<p>“I never wanted anyone but you.”  Aziraphale interrupted him.  “And I never will.”</p>
<p>A weight Crowley hadn’t been aware of lifted from his heart.  His face split into a broad grin and he began to laugh giddily.  “Promise?” he giggled, “Mine forevermore?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale cut off his laughter with a searing kiss, pouring passion into and over him.  He wrapped him in Love and longing and desire and something that saw only good things regardless of the darkness surrounding them until the Demon could do nothing but let himself be kissed as though Aziraphale’s life depended on it.<a href="#note4"><sup>4</sup></a>  </p>
<p>Crowley needed no urging to follow up the back stairs to the bedroom.  A few touches added over the passing weeks had made it home for both of them: an antique Tiffany lamp and a couple of books on one nightstand, a tartan dressing gown hanging on the door, silk sheets, two large potted peace lilies by the window and a philodendron spilling out of a hanging basket in the corner.</p>
<p>Aziraphale pulled him close again and all was forgotten in the melding of their lips, the heat of their embrace.  He wrestled Crowley’s jacket off as he steered him into the room, pushed the Demon onto the bed, and climbed into his lap.</p>
<p>“My Angel,” Crowley sighed, enfolding him in his arms.  “Still can’t believe you want me.”</p>
<p>“Of course I want you, you bloody idiot!”  Aziraphale pulled the Demon tight to him.  “I’ve wanted you since you first appeared on the Wall next to me – ” he grabbed two handfuls of red hair, pulling Crowley’s head back slightly – “I wanted you the moment I heard your voice in that taverna in Rome – ” his teeth grazed Crowley’s neck –  “I wanted you every single time I saw you in the park with the sunlight glinting in your hair!”  The Angel ground his hips into Crowley’s lap.</p>
<p>The Demon growled low and gazed up into that cherubic face, now flushed and blue eyes flashing.  He grinned wickedly.  “Don’t sugarcoat it, Angel, tell me how you really feel!”</p>
<p>Aziraphale stood, lifted Crowley a clear foot, and flung him onto the bed on his back.  They both dissolved into laughter as he crawled up to straddle the Demon’s hips again.  “How I really feel?” he asked coyly, unbuttoning Crowley’s shirt with a caress and then vanishing it with a flick of his wrists (his own clothes were quickly disappearing under Crowley’s hands).  “You’re temptation incarnate!”  He went for the Demon’s neck again.  “You’re lust on legs!”    </p>
<p>“Was that a snake joke?” asked Crowley, pulling Aziraphale’s face up to look at him in mock offense.</p>
<p>The Angel shook his head with a sigh.  “You’re also completely impossible!”</p>
<p>“And you love me!” Crowley grinned wider still. </p>
<p>“More than anything.”  Aziraphale kissed him, spilling forth all those layers of Love, toying with the intensity that could set Crowley into rasping breaths or writhing moans with the Angel’s whim.  They’d quickly learned that a gentle push of the right energies could have a remarkable effect and it made for a delightful game.  Aziraphale took full advantage of this, making sure the Demon was a gasping mess before he proceeded to move down his torso with kisses and caresses. </p>
<p>“More than Sondheim?” Crowley teased, trying to recover his edge.</p>
<p>Aziraphale was unfazed.  “Yes, Pet.”  He sucked a mark onto Crowley’s neck.</p>
<p>Crowley panted a minute but continued undaunted.  “More than a first edition of <em>The Mabinogion</em>?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale very nearly growled at him for bringing his books into this but didn’t take the bait.  “Yes, love.”  He sank his teeth into the flesh just below Crowley’s nipple.</p>
<p>The Demon hissed and whimpered, fisting his desperate hands in the Angel’s curls.  Still, he wasn’t going to let Aziraphale win so easily.  “More than chocolate?” he gasped out.</p>
<p>The Angel paused, his tongue dipped just beneath the waistband of Crowley’s jeans.  He raised his head with an arched eyebrow.  “Could I have you covered in chocolate?”</p>
<p>Crowley groaned in defeat.  “Angel, you can have me any way you want me if you’ll just <em>get on with it!</em>”  He didn’t appreciate being made to beg.  That emerald warmth rose up in him and he brushed it across Aziraphale’s face.  The Angel’s eyes closed briefly and he followed Crowley’s hand back up his torso.</p>
<p>By the time Aziraphale was stretched out atop Crowley, the last of their clothes had vanished. </p>
<p>“Hmm, that’s more like it!” the Demon drawled.</p>
<p>“No patience at all, have you?” Aziraphale accused him. </p>
<p>Crowley did his best to look innocent.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Angel!”  He broke into giggles that rather ruined the effect.</p>
<p>Aziraphale lost his straight face as well.  “So you’re suggesting I did that?”  He gave over and kissed Crowley through their laughter.   </p>
<p>They tumbled across the bed, hands and mouths finding purchase on any skin within reach, joy engulfing them as they reveled in each other.  A tangle of arms and legs and swirling gold and green power flaring white hot where their bodies touched and sparkling with flashes of loving pink laughter finally settled into Aziraphale riding Crowley while the Demon held him tight in the heat of his lap.</p>
<p>“Do you love me?” Aziraphale breathed.</p>
<p>Crowley reached for his cheek.  “You know I do, Angel, can’t you feel it?” </p>
<p>Aziraphale caught Crowley’s thumb between his lips and sucked a line of green heat from it.  “Oh, I can, Pet.  But I want to hear you say it…your voice…” </p>
<p>“<em>Ol boaluahe</em> – ” </p>
<p>Aziraphale clapped a hand over his mouth.  “No, not that!”  He replaced his hand with a kiss.  “<em>You</em>.  Crowley.  My Crowley.”</p>
<p>The Demon gazed up into his blue eyes.  “I love you, Aziraphale.”</p>
<p>The Angel quickened his pace.</p>
<p>“I love everything about you.  I adore you, Angel.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale began to keen; Crowley saw the golden light rising in him and pushed further.  “Most precious of all Her creations, most glorious of the Heavenly Host,” – the Angel’s glow lit the room around them – “My saving grace, my undeserved blessing!”</p>
<p>Nearly delirious with praise, Aziraphale held tight to Crowley, lost in his eyes now completely gold and ravenous.</p>
<p>“Sssay you’re mine,” Crowley hissed through his teeth.  “My brilliant, ssshining Angel!”</p>
<p>“Your Angel,” Aziraphale panted. “Balm of my heart, my rescuer, more beautiful than all of Heaven… Yours always…  Yours alone.”  </p>
<p>Their lips met barely a moment before a burst of white light exploded between them, screaming streaks of color raining down around them.  Cries tore from their throats, edges of bodies blurred as they were turned inside out and remade in each other’s image.  Shuddering breaths pieced them back together, stitched their souls to one another, and left them heaving in each other’s arms.</p>
<p>Crowley wound himself around Aziraphale’s languid form in search of as much physical contact as he could find.  “My everything,” he whispered between kisses, “my Heaven.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale breathed a shuddering sigh and twined his arms and legs with Crowley’s.  “Love you,” he muttered from behind half-closed eyes, “always and always.”  A slight movement of his hand brought the blankets up to cover them just before they dropped off to sleep in their embrace.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<ol>
<li>
<a id="note1" name="note1"></a> Unless he did something truly gauche – he was still Crowley, after all</li>
<li>
<a id="note2" name="note2"></a> Orange blossoms, cardamom, and vanilla with a sprinkling of crystalline Light</li>
<li>
<a id="note3" name="note3"></a> He might have liked it even more than his books, but he’d never say so</li>
<li>
<a id="note4" name="note4"></a> It would be several days before each of them realized this exchange had been, in a way, both proposal and marriage.  Neither ever mentioned it.  But some months later, when Aziraphale’s eyes lit up at the sight of a sleek puzzle ring in a shop window, Crowley got them a matched set.</li>
</ol>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Next Saturday morning, Aziraphale was in the kitchenette dithering over which bottle of wine to bring on their picnic when he heard Crowley return from checking on his houseplants.</p>
<p>“In here, love,” he called over his shoulder.  Moments later, two arms snaked around his waist and he felt the cold metal edge of a pair of sunglasses against his cheek.</p>
<p>“Morning, Angel,” Crowley hummed contentedly.</p>
<p>Aziraphale half-turned to accept the kiss Crowley pressed to his cheek.  “I missed you, too,” he said fondly.  “I’m just packing up, I’ll be ready in a moment.”  He went back to the picnic basket without another word. </p>
<p>Crowley stepped back, hands clasped behind him, waiting for the Angel’s reaction.  He was rewarded when Aziraphale turned around and immediately dropped the wine.  A small Demonic intervention made sure it landed safely, right side up, without breaking.</p>
<p>“Like it?” The Demon grinned, spreading his arms wide.</p>
<p>The Angel was dumbstruck.  Even under the black jacket, the emerald silk shirt made Crowley look regal beyond imagining.  Aziraphale could all but see his wings and smouldering halo, just the other side of this plane, and the effect was stunning.  He blinked back tears and stifled the urge to fall to his knees before he found his voice again.  “Too beautiful for this world.  Or any other.”</p>
<p>“Good enough for <em>you</em>?”  Crowley stepped forward and enfolded the dazzled Angel in his arms again.  “Cos that’s all I care about.”</p>
<p>Those layers of Love, Angelic and otherwise, rose up around him in lieu of the words Aziraphale couldn’t find.  The Angel bowed his head, eyes half-closed in reverence.  “I should kneel to you,” he whispered.</p>
<p>Crowley whipped off his sunglasses and tipped Aziraphale’s chin up so their eyes met.  “Absolutely not, you hear me?  That’s not who I am anymore.”  He shushed the Angel’s protest.  “Besides,” he smirked, “if you get on your knees before me, there’ll be a reason for it!” </p>
<p>Aziraphale’s blue eyes flamed.  “Now there’s an idea…”</p>
<p>“An idea for later, Angel,” Crowley admonished him.  “Not that I don’t love the thought, but you promised me a picnic over fifty years ago and the weather is <em>miraculously</em> perfect.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale beamed, touched that Crowley had gone to so much trouble.  “I suppose there’ll always be time afterward…”</p>
<p>Crowley’s voice warmed with devotion as he brushed his knuckles against the Angel’s cheek.  “I’ll bring you a storm tonight if you want a reason to stay in and keep me warm.”        </p>
<p>-----------</p>
<p>They chose a quiet, sunny spot with a view of the ducks and Crowley stretched out on their blanket as the Angel set about unpacking lunch and pouring the wine.  They sat side by side quietly watching the crowds of people, Aziraphale enjoying a smoked salmon sandwich while Crowley munched on an apple.<a href="#note1"><sup>1</sup></a>.  Both Angel and Demon were rather proud of humanity, as a species.  They were fascinating, so oblivious and yet somehow so clever; maddeningly cruel and still so thoroughly loving.  She’d done quite a job with them, really. </p>
<p>“You said it takes very little with humans,” said Aziraphale, apropos of nothing.</p>
<p>“Hmm?”  The Demon started out of his reverie.  “What?”</p>
<p>“Your miracles.”</p>
<p>“Oh…that.”  Crowley wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.</p>
<p>Aziraphale sipped his wine.  “I was just wondering…”</p>
<p>“You want to know how it works with them,” Crowley finished for him.</p>
<p>“Well, yes.”</p>
<p>Crowley actually blushed.  Modesty was a new experience for him, but sure as Hell, the idea of Aziraphale watching him perform a miracle for someone else made him squirm.  “Er…well, it…,” he stammered, “It takes the right situation, of course….”  He ducked his head into his glass so quickly he nearly got wine up his nose.</p>
<p>The Angel brushed a lock of red hair back from his forehead.  “It’s not important, Pet.  I was only curious.”</p>
<p>“Why would you even want to know about that?”  Wouldn’t an Angel find it distasteful for miracles to happen that way?</p>
<p>“I wondered if they got to see what I saw,” Aziraphale smiled.</p>
<p>Crowley’s eyebrow arched above his glasses.  “Well, I don’t break the wings out for humans, Angel.”</p>
<p>“I meant…this…” His blue eyes shone lovingly as his fingers stroked Crowley’s green silk collar.  “<em>You</em>…as you really are.”  After a moment his hand strayed higher and he pulled the Demon’s lips to his own. </p>
<p>Crowley sighed deep into Aziraphale’s kiss.  “Nobody needs to see that but you, Angel,” he whispered.  “I mean, it’d ruin my reputation, wouldn’t it?”  He winked over his sunglasses. </p>
<p>The afternoon passed in amiable conversation and affectionate ribbing.  They spent an hour or so with Crowley listing all the weak points of every soul that passed by and Aziraphale countermanding him with all their good marks – nobody won that game, but they weren’t really keeping score.  Another hour saw them trading their favorite human inventions, which then turned the conversation to their favorite eras in history and, inevitably, to reminiscing about their long association. </p>
<p>By the last glass of wine, they’d forgotten everything but each other and Aziraphale’s head lay cradled in Crowley’s lap. </p>
<p>“Why do you love me, Angel?”  Crowley dropped a grape into Aziraphale’s mouth.</p>
<p>“Because you ask stupid questions like that,” the Angel quipped, nipping at Crowley’s fingers.</p>
<p>The Demon sighed.  “You know what I mean.”  He stroked Aziraphale’s soft curls.</p>
<p>“Because you’re such a dreamboat, then.”  Crowley looked pained, which only made Aziraphale laugh.  “And because you cringe when I call you that!”</p>
<p>Crowley popped another grape into the Angel’s mouth, letting his fingers linger on his full lips.  “I’m serious.  Why in creation do you love me?”</p>
<p>“I hardly think this is the time or place to tell you, seeing as there are no convenient walls for you to throw me against,” Aziraphale smirked.</p>
<p>The proverbial lightbulb blinked on in Crowley’s head.  He stared down at his Angel, aghast.  “You – you never! – On purpose?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale attempted to look innocent, but only managed smug.</p>
<p>“You – you – ” The realization finally reached other parts of Crowley’s brain.  His pulse sped up and his voice dropped.  “If you want me to manhandle you, Angel, you only had to ask,” he purred.  “But out of an interest, are you willing to return the favor?”</p>
<p>Now it was Aziraphale who was gobsmacked.  “I didn’t think that was your thing…”</p>
<p>“Could be,” Crowley leaned in close over Aziraphale and dropped his glasses to show his eyes bled out to full gold.  “Why do you think I let you call me Pet?” he whispered. </p>
<p>----------</p>
<p>They returned to the bookshop as dark clouds lowered over Soho.  Shortly after they’d settled in, the skies opened with a streak of lightning and a peal of thunder. </p>
<p>Crowley pointed triumphantly upward.  “As promised.” </p>
<p>“I thought you hated rainstorms,” Aziraphale chided him gently. </p>
<p>“Only when I don’t have you to shield me.”  The Demon began to shiver even as he pulled his Angel close. </p>
<p>“There now, we mustn’t let you get chilled.”  Aziraphale planted a quick kiss on the corner of Crowley’s mouth.  “Come on, love.  I think I know just how to warm you up.” </p>
<p>To the Demon’s credit, it was a grand storm – the greatest London had seen since the world hadn’t ended.  Lightning scarred the sky and thunder rumbled through the air as the rough winds whistled and rain lashed against the windows. </p>
<p>Meanwhile, indoors, two cups of tea and a plate of ginger biscuits sat on the edge of the spacious marble tub where Crowley and Aziraphale lounged, enjoying the perpetually hot water and the warmth of each other’s arms.  When the cups were drained and the biscuits reduced to crumbs, they took turns drying each other off and made their way to bed.</p>
<p>“Angel,” Crowley cajoled, snuggling against Aziraphale, “I brought you this storm so you’d have an excuse to keep me warm tonight.”</p>
<p>“Are you cold, Pet?”  Aziraphale pulled the blankets higher around Crowley’s shoulders.</p>
<p>“No, love,” the Demon laughed softly.  “But I thought there were things you wanted to do.”</p>
<p>The Angel’s fingers carded through Crowley’s flaming hair.  “Are you not enjoying this, love?”</p>
<p>Crowley sighed serenely and dropped a kiss onto Aziraphale’s chest.  “You can hold me and stroke my hair for all eternity if you want,” he whispered.</p>
<p>“I just might,” the Angel purred.  “But first…” </p>
<p>Before Crowley knew what was happening, he was on his back, his wrists pinned on either side of his head, and Aziraphale had settled himself easily astride his slender hips.</p>
<p>“Yes, Angel?” Crowley drawled with a wicked grin.</p>
<p>Aziraphale did not smile, though his eyes shone hard as diamonds as his hands trailed down Crowley’s arms to his chest.  “Now then, my Pet,” he said evenly, “How long since you prayed?”</p>
<p>The smile slid from Crowley’s face and he gave a tentative shake of his head.  “Dunno…ages.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale leaned forward until their lips were nearly touching.  One hand wrapped around the Demon’s throat.  “You will tonight.” </p>
<p>Molten gold flooded Crowley’s eyes and his jaw fell slack in surrender.  “Yes, Angel.”</p>
<p>The storm raged on throughout the night, rising and falling as if nature were answering the fury of their passion with its own.  The incessant lightning dimmed against the Heavenly glow of an Angel’s glory and a Demon’s voice rose above the thunder in an ecstatic chorus of <em>alleluias</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<ol>
<li>
<a id="note1" name="note1"></a> Just as Aziraphale had learned to occasionally sleep, Crowley had somewhat come around to eating.  Apples were a particular favorite, for obvious reasons.</li>
</ol>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>